


The Tao of Wands

by Leela



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, First Time, Wand-Making
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-04
Updated: 2011-12-04
Packaged: 2017-10-26 21:06:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,972
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/287913
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leela/pseuds/Leela
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If a wizard without a wand is like a Sphinx without a riddle, what does it say about Severus that his wand never casts the right spell? Fortunately for Severus, a witch who's full of riddles is willing to help.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Tao of Wands

**Author's Note:**

  * For [apollinav](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=apollinav).



> Written for apollinav as a pinch-hit for the 2009 Snuna Exchange on LJ for the following prompt: _Luna, may have a reputation for being a reclusive odd-duck, but she's best known for being the wizarding world's best wandmaker. When she can be found and convinced to make them. Severus' magic has gone wonky since his near death experience. Can Luna help him?_
> 
>  **Beta Reader** : iulia_linnea

"Can't fix my wand? Can't give me a new one?" Severus snarled. "You sanctimonious bastard, why not just admit that you won't."

Ollivander stood on the other side of his shop counter and peered up at Snape. "Can't, Mr Snape, is what I said and what I meant."

"All of these wands—" Severus spat the word like a curse "—and you expect me to believe that not a single one is willing to choose me?"

"Oh no, Mr Snape. Oh dear me, no, that's not what I'm saying at all."

Clenching his fists against the temptation to wrap his hands around the wandmaker's scrawny throat, Severus ground out, "Then would you kindly explain to me what you are saying?"

"The wand, Mr Snape, chooses the wizard."

"Oh for the love of..." Severus snapped his mouth shut when Ollivander held up an age-mottled hand.

"Your wand has chosen you. And, well, you must understand... it's a very curious thing about some wands. And your wand, Mr Snape, is one of those. It must release you before another wand will be permitted... oh my, yes, I do mean permitted. You can have no other wand while that one owns you."

"Owns me?" Severus's temper climbed higher. "No one, no thing owns me. I will not allow it."

"Then, Mr Snape, your way is clear. Indeed it is." With a flick of Ollivander's wand, a piece of parchment floated down and land on the counter in front of Severus. "If you truly wish to be rid of that wand, to obtain one that will work for you, this is where you must go."

~*~

A litany of Muggle and Wizarding curses spilled from Severus's mouth as he plodded along a narrow, rutted track through an overgrown wood. Being late ought to be a choice, not something forced upon a person by a bloody-minded piece of wood. Although, in the scheme of things, having his wand cast Accio when he'd most definitely said Apparate was hardly the worst possible outcome. One could recover from being bombarded with duck feathers, after all.

Severus shuddered as several potential outcomes of that particular spell misfiring presented themselves in graphic detail. Taking his imagination firmly in hand, he resolved once again to stop castigating himself and start remembering not to use magic. At least until he could be certain that his wand would produce the spell he was casting.

One more twist in the track brought him out into the open. An enormous tree stood in the centre of the glen. It was so tall that Severus could not see the top branches, and so wide that only a few feet separated it from the surrounding woods. Beneath its lowest branches, a two-storey house was built around the trunk. Severus speculated — and he was not about to walk around the damn thing to verify that hypothesis — that the house made a complete circle around the tree.

The single door was a semicircular arch with a capstone in the shape of an upside-down horseshoe. Porthole windows dotted the walls. Some were high, some were low, and none were aligned with another. Plants climbed up and over the stone walls and shingled roof. Just at a glance, Severus identified six varieties of ivy, roses in twelve different colours and sizes, two types of Flitterbloom, and something spiky and dark red that might well be Venomous Tentacular. Although why Lovegood would want that decorating her house was beyond him.

Then again, the woman was a lunatic. He snorted at the pun and wondered, not for the first time, what her parents had been thinking when they'd named their daughter, or if they'd been capable of thinking at all. She wouldn't be the first genius born from the loins of imbeciles.

And she was a genius — utterly batshit insane, but a genius nonetheless. Then again, Severus wondered, yet again, what it said about him that he was desperate enough to turn to her?

Before he could change his mind — again — the door opened and Luna stepped out. She smiled and waved at him, and he found himself walking towards her.

Her blonde hair was twisted into a knot at the nape of her neck and held in place by two wands that had been shoved through it. Her eyes were no less blue and no less protuberant, and they still made him feel as if she could see right through him, as if he could hide nothing from her.

When he reached her, she turned and went into the house without speaking. She held the door open for him, so he followed. The many layers of her dress, in shades of blue from near-silver to navy, swung as she walked down the hallway. The hypnotic effect of that movement, he was sure, was the only reason his eyes were drawn to her hips and arse.

~*~

"A wizard without a wand," Luna said in a sing-song voice, "is like a Sphinx without a riddle."

"I have a wand, you stupid—" Severus cut himself off. Taking a deep breath, he reminded himself that dealing with Lovegood had always been like this.

"But if the wand will not obey the wizard, does the wizard truly have a wand?"

"My wand always obeyed me, until that damned snake tried to kill me."

"No creature, no matter how magical or cursed, can wield a wand or become its master." Luna placed a hand on his left forearm. "Who does that wand recognise as its master?"

"Me," Severus insisted. "I have been neither defeated nor disarmed in combat."

Luna plucked a white duck feather off his shoulder and tucked it in a small pouch. "Your wand was a gift."

"Yes."

"Who does that wand recognise as its master?"

Horror trickled down Severus's spine and settled in his stomach. With thumb and forefinger, he yanked the wand from its holster and threw it onto the table. Far away from him. It landed with a thunk, rolling to the far edge but not falling off.

"It will be all right," Luna said, patting his cheek and ignoring his growl. "You'll see."

And without hesitation, she turned her back on him and skipped — skipped! — over to the table. She drew one of the wands out of her hair, causing the knot to droop to one side, and poked carefully and thoughtfully at his wand.

Crossing his arms over his chest, not in the slightest bit defensively, Severus raised an eyebrow and assumed his best looming pose. "Well?"

"Well," Luna said, tilting her head and looking at him with the same consideration she'd given his wand. "To paraphrase a wise Muggle, when we have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, will be the truth."

"Fiction," Severus said, his voice dripping with scorn. "Muggle fiction, no less, is unlikely to assist me with my wand."

Luna made a humming noise and walked past him to the door. She stopped and slammed a hand against the door post, making him jump and spin around to scowl at her.

This time when she spoke, her voice was cold and barely recognisable. "You are in my home, Mr Snape. Where I make and repair wands for those I deem worthy. I welcomed you here because Ollie vouched for you and asked me to help you, despite everything that we have both suffered at the hands of your former friends. Do not prove yourself unworthy of his trust. And do not, under any circumstances, underestimate me or my abilities."

Without saying another word, she whirled around and left him alone in the room.

Severus stood, glaring at the door, until it became clear that she would not return any time soon. Then he prowled around the room. He stayed to the edges, examining the walls, staying as far as possible from his wand.

He'd expected the furniture and walls to be loaded down with knick-knacks, tacky souvenirs, and other frippery. But they weren't. Instead, the shelves and tables were laden with books and parchment scrolls. The desk that took up half of one wall held more books and more parchment, and a carefully arranged selection of implements that he assumed were useful in the creation of wands. Banks of drawers rose from floor to ceiling on either side of the desk. Each drawer was marked with runic notations. After translating the first two cards and discovering that those drawers contained dragon heartstrings and unicorn hair, common wand cores, he moved on.

One wall held neither shelves, nor furniture. Instead it was painted with an elaborate family tree. Although friends-and-family tree would be more accurate, he mused, as he moved from portrait to portrait. Most were former students: Harry Potter, several Weasleys, Longbottom, Granger. He raised an eyebrow when he saw the familiar face of Kingsley Shacklebolt, and again at a goblin he was sure he'd seen in Gringott's. Runes, painted in gold and silver, connected the portraits, chaining the pictures together.

At the centre was a blank space large enough for two portraits. Confused, and yet drawn to the bare white, he stepped forward and placed his hand on the wall. An odd susurration vibrated through his palm. He yanked his hand back, rubbing it on his robe, when he identified the sensation as similar to the one he'd felt when under the Sorting Hat.

~*~

After spending the night in a small but adequate guest room, Severus dressed in his usual black robes, repacked and shrank his overnight bag, then returned to the work studio. His wand still lay in the same place near the edge of the table. Sunlight streamed through four round windows that he hadn't noticed the previous night. In fact, he was sure that there'd been shelves in those locations.

"Good morning," Luna greeted him brightly. She sat at the opposite end of the table from his wand, morning editions of The Quibbler and the Daily Prophet spread out before her. She gestured at the steaming teapot and an empty plate across from her. "Sit down. It's perfectly safe. I've already banished the Wrackspurts."

Severus was not going to ask. He simply refused. Instead, with one quick glance at his wand, he pulled out the chair and sat down. Toast, pale-brown and hot, exactly how he liked it, appeared on his plate. A dish of butter and jars of silver marmalade and strawberry jam appeared alongside, as did his own copies of the papers.

Hiding his surprise behind his usual calm mask, Severus thickly buttered and piled silver marmalade on one piece of toast. Wrinkling his nose, he added a light scraping of butter and strawberry jam to the other. Bloody Pomfrey and her self-righteous pronouncements about his eating habits. Two quick slices of his knife, and both pieces of toast were halved. He crunched through the 'healthy' pieces of toast while skimming the front page of The Quibbler. Then, having disposed of both of those odious tasks, settled down to enjoy a cup of tea, his remaining toast, and the latest shenanigans reported in the Prophet.

He'd barely popped the last, delicious bite of toast into his mouth when Luna announced, "Oh good, you're finished. It's time for us to get started."

And with that his plate and papers disappeared. Tightening his grip on his mug, he glowered at her.

"Don't worry," she said, rising to her feet. "I know better than to allow anything to come between a man and his morning cuppa."

Stopping to refill his mug, Severus covertly watched her walk to the other end of the table. She was wearing black trousers that tapered to embroidered cuffs around her ankles and a hip-length black caftan with matching cuffs around her wrists. Her hair was in one long plait, and she wore no jewellery. Any remaining doubts about her abilities disappeared, and his thoughts about what that said about him made him very uncomfortable.

"Ebony wood with a twist of mahogany through the handle," she mused, and a quill scratched a note on a piece of parchment that lay on her desk. "Very elegant and yet..."

After the silence had dragged on for a minute or two, Severus tried his best not to snarl when he asked, "And yet what?"

Her head snapped up. "What is in the core?"

"Unicorn hair."

"Oh, no, you can't have unicorn hair with ebony. That wouldn't do at all." Before he could formulate a response to that, she demanded, "Pick it up."

Damning his own hesitation, he snatched the wand from the table. It felt alien, almost hostile. Nothing like the wand he'd been using for decades.

"Cast something for me." Luna's smile was gentle, reassuring. "It can't hurt you in here."

Severus nodded, put his tea down on the table, and firmed his grasp on his wand. "Lumos."

Pink light shot out of the end of his wand and conjured a lop-sided, bright pink, fanged tulip. A flick of Luna's wand Banished the flower.

"Again," she said.

"Nox."

Black satin ropes flew out of the air and wrapped themselves around Severus, binding his arms to his torso.

"Finite Incantatem," Luna said, and the ropes dissolved. "Once more."

"Haven't you humiliated me enough?"

"One more, please?"

That pleading look in her eyes was beyond even Severus's ability to withstand. He gathered his courage and cast the first spell he'd ever learnt. "Wingardium Leviosa."

The light from his wand was the brown of milk chocolate, which, in retrospect, ought to have been a warning. However, it wasn't until a Chocolate Frog jumped off his head that Severus realised what had happened.

Chocolate Frogs leapt hither and yon, over the floor, under the table, and even across the desk. Luna's eyes lit up, she giggled, and started chasing them around the room. Each time she caught one, she tucked it into a small bag that she'd conjured.

"Sweets for the sweet," she announced, holding the bag open for Severus.

"I am hardly sweet," Severus said, even as he dipped into the bag and retrieved a frog. When it bounced slightly in his hand, he took a vicious bite out of its hind legs. The chocolate melted in his mouth. His eyes closed as he enjoyed the rare treat. But then, as he swallowed, he remembered what had created it and felt sick to his stomach. He opened his hand and stared at the remnants.

"It won't hurt you." Luna waved her wand and the Chocolate Frogs vanished. "I tested them."

Severus gave her a tight nod and placed his wand in her outstretched hand.

"Shall we find out what is in the centre?"

"What—" he cleared his throat, "what do you think it is?"

Swaying in place, the wand balanced on her palm, Luna said, "Something dark, something dangerous, and something that should no longer exist in this world." Her expression flickered, hardened, and she asked, "Did Voldemort gift any others with a wand?"

"The Dark Lord had Gregorovitch make three wands, I believe, including mine." Severus frowned, trying to remember. "Regulus received one at his Marking, but Bellatrix stole it from him. She was still using it when she died, and it was burnt with her body."

"And the last?" she prompted him.

"The first," he corrected her. "He presented it before I was Marked — to Barty Crouch, Jr."

"The man who would be Moody had no wand of his own."

"It was snapped and destroyed after he was convicted and sentenced to Azkaban."

"Shall we find out what he placed inside this Trojan horse?" With a flick of her wrist, Luna tossed his wand into the air and murmured words too quietly for Severus to hear. His wand was caged in a series of golden circles, each spinning in a different direction. Inside, his wand turned end over end.

Luna began chanting. With her wand clasped in both hands, she raised her arms. The circles coruscated in the sunlight, bright colours growing darker and darker until they merged into a single scarlet spark at the end of his wand. As Luna's hands flew apart and she dropped them to her sides, the circles exploded into a flash of colour. Severus's wand hovered for a moment and then broke open.

The crack echoed through Severus's chest as if he stood next to a gong. He fought the darkness that threatened to envelop him, tried to keep his eyes from rolling back in his head, but he lost.

~*~

When Severus awoke, he held himself still, cracking his eyes open the smallest bit, wanting to be sure of his surroundings before he moved. A twitch of a finger proved that the surface beneath him was soft. His head lay on pillows, and something equally squashy propped up his feet. Someone else was on the bed with him, but when he peeked out of the corner of his eyes, all he could see was black.

"You're in your bedroom." Luna's hand brushed against his temple, moving a few stray hairs away from his face.

"My... bedroom?" Severus looked around. He was unaccountably relieved to see that it was the room where he'd slept the previous night and not his chamber at Hogwarts.

"Yes, your bedroom," she replied. "You're welcome to stay while I make your new wand."

"My wand," he said, relaxing against the pillows, "it's gone?"

"Yes."

"What was—"

A clink of metal against glass distracted him. "Would you like some water?"

He shook his head, no, but accepted the glass. "Tell me about my wand. What did that bastard put inside it?"

"The core was Basilisk plume wrapped with Quintaped hair."

Astounded, he stared at her. Parts of those vile creatures had been in his wand, had touched his magic. Then her words came back to him. "What else?" he hissed. "You said there was something that shouldn't be in this world."

"It bore a second mark, given by him to you, stained with his blood rather than created with his magic."

"Destroy it!"

"Shhhh," Luna crooned, caressing his hand with hers. "The wand has already left this world. You have no more chains."

Relief made him light-headed, forced him to sit up. Holding the cool glass against his forehead, words spilt from his mouth before he could stop them. "They said it was Nagini's bite. That my magic was permanently corrupted by the venom injected into me by the Dark Lord's Horcrux. I went everywhere, talked to everyone. Came damn close to..." He trailed off, completely unable to describe his almost suicidal reaction to the suggestion made by one Healer that he was something worse than a Squib, something that should be quarantined, never again permitted near other wizards for fear that he would spread the taint.

"They are worse than Nargles. You can't trust them."

Severus's laugh was humourless, an ugly noise that scraped its way out of his throat. "I trust no one."

"Do you lie to yourself often?" Her quiet, dreamy voice belied the sting in her question.

He opened his mouth, set to deny her accusation vehemently, but could not do it. There was something about her expression, so open, so trusting. It made him want to protect her.

Luna released his hand, took the glass from him, and placed it on the bedside table. Then she drew him into her arms. He curled up, fitting his taller body against hers, resting his head on her shoulder. She stroked a hand through his greasy hair, and he allowed himself to find comfort in her touch.

~*~

The creation of Severus's new wand started the next day and continued over the next several weeks. Luna never once complained about his hovering presence. On the contrary, she seemed to understand his compulsion to have some control over the process. This wand, he was determined, would answer to no one but him.

She waited patiently as he tested wood sample after wood sample. When he complained about the low quality of the offerings, something that even he admitted — albeit privately — was untrue, she took him through a door that he'd never seen before. The door led not to the courtyard he'd expected but to a piece of wild forest that was enclosed by the house.

Following Luna down a spiralling path, Severus examined his surroundings. They were walking towards the giant tree around which her house was built. It cast dappled shade over the entire area. Grass, flowers, and shrubs grew wild on either side of the path. He didn't see any animals or birds, but he could feel and hear them.

"Sit," she said, gesturing at a high, flat rock that stood a few feet from the trunk, and then left without another word.

He sat. And twitched. The grotto was far too peaceful for Severus to be comfortable.

Eventually, not wanting to be stuck there ad infinitum, he started a vicious, one-sided argument with the tree about the ridiculousness of the entire situation and the duplicity of wands. Merlin help him, he even blithered on about Lovegood and her willingness to let him take over her spare room and her potions lab.

When Severus returned to her workroom and handed her the piece of heart wood that the old tree had gifted him, she smiled and got to work. The satisfaction that came from her smile disturbed him a great deal. So much, in fact, that he loomed and snapped more than usual. Unfortunately for his peace of mind, she just smiled at him and patted his cheek.

It distracted him enough that he didn't argue when she asked him to trust her with the choice of core.

~*~

One afternoon as Severus contemplated the portraits on the wall of her workroom, having abandoned the latest issue of the Journal of Experimental Potions — or Potions for Blithering Idiots as it ought to be renamed — Luna came up and perched on the arm of his chair.

She wore pink, the colour bright enough for him to momentarily consider whether blindness might be a pleasant alternative. A circlet of pink and white roses adorned her hair. Her earrings were carved from dragon scales, and her bracelets and necklace were made from twists of unicorn hair. Her smile was incandescent.

"Once there were five, and I thought myself rich beyond measure," she said.

"Five?"

"Friends," she replied, in a pensive tone. "I painted them on my bedroom ceiling. They were the last thing I saw every night, and the first thing I saw every morning."

He considered and discarded several sarcastic retorts before deciding on honesty. "Someone to watch over you while you slept?"

"Yes."

Her small bounce told him that he'd said the right thing, which made him feel inordinately accomplished. It also gave him the courage to broach the question that had haunted him since his first day in her house. "The emptiness at the centre..."

"Is waiting for an answer," she finished.

He raised an eyebrow, but she merely stood up and held out her hand. "Come with me!"

"Do you intend to tell me where you're taking me, or am I to simply take your intentions on faith?"

"Faith, of course," she said, grasping his hand and giving it an impatient yank. "Why stop trusting me now?"

"Indeed," he muttered.

Holding on to his hand, she danced down the hall in front of him. When they stepped into a large room. Luna released his hand. He stood and stared. He'd been in many large homes over the years but he'd never seen anything like this room.

The two curving side walls and the ceiling were made of glass. The floor and the remaining walls were covered in a mural that echoed the view through the windows and made it seem as if they were outside. In the centre of the room, beneath a floating circle of candles, stood an enormous, round bed. Wardrobes, curved like the walls and decorated with leaves and flowers, flanked the bed.

Luna pulled on his arm. "Over here."

On the other side of the bed, hidden behind a lacquered wooden screen, was a table with two chairs. Vines wound around the china and crystal place settings. Luna gave him an impish smile and took her seat.

When he sat down opposite her, she said, "Well, go on. It's your turn."

Patience snapping under the strain of his curiosity, he spat, "My turn to do exactly what?"

"Summon dinner, of course." And she nodded at his plate.

At the wand that lay diagonally across it.

Swallowing hard, he picked it up with a trembling hand. Warmth spread through his fingers and up his arm. He was filled with a sense of belonging, of rightness that he hadn't felt with his mother's borrowed wand or the wand he'd received from the Dark Lord. He clutched it tightly; then, with a grave smile, he flicked the wand and cast one of his mother's favourite spells. A pink rose in full bloom with dark green leaves appeared in front of him.

"Thank you." Bowing his head, he presented the rose to her with a courtly flourish. "I am in your debt."

"'Tis of no mind, good sir," she said, giggling as she breathed in the rose's perfume. "This favour and your happiness are payment enough."  
He disagreed, but he was not discourteous enough to argue at her table or take away her obvious joy at giving him this gift.

Dinner was long and slow, replete with conversation and comfortable silences. By the end, Severus had loosened the collar of his black robes and Luna had shed her shoes. The sun had sunk below the tree tops, leaving the flickering candles as their only light.

After bestowing an indecipherable look upon him, Luna got to her feet and walked around the table towards him. "Every life," she said, "is filled with moments of decision."

His heart beat faster as he watched the sway of her hips, the cascade of blonde hair that curled over her breasts. Without getting up, he pushed his chair back from the table and turned to sit sideways.

"The road diverges. Each fork beckons." One step, and then another, and she stood between his legs. She picked up his hands, held them between her smaller ones, and asked, "Would you walk the path less travelled with me?"

"I—" Severus's voice cracked before he could complete the sentence that would have turned her down.

As if sensing his dilemma, Luna lifted his hands to her lips and kissed his stained fingertips. "We could hold hands. Walk together."

If she had pushed him, attempted to seduce him, he would have rejected her in an instant. However, her gentleness, her honesty, left him speechless, tempted him beyond his ability to refuse. Before he could change his mind again, before he could recite his usual litany of reasons why he was unsuitable, he drew her hands to his face and rested his cheek on them.

Their first kiss was long and slow. Their mouths pressed together. Her lips parted, and he could taste the wine, the food, Luna. He pulled her closer. She slid her arms around his neck. He caressed the curve of her back, the swell of her arse. He kept his touches light, remembering the incessant complaints about bruises from his last lover.

When Luna nipped at him and twisted out of his arms, Severus let her go. His face twisted into a sneer, and he was about to say the words that would send her packing before she could do the same to him when she placed her finger on his mouth.

"If I'd wanted gentle or kind," she said, "I would have stayed with Neville."

Somehow, they made it to the bed. Their clothes were shed along the way and, caught up in her intensity, Severus forgot to care about the flaws that usually made him self-conscious. She had her own scars, a legacy of the Malfoy dungeons.

"Beautiful," he rumbled, as he kissed, licked, and nibbled every mark on her body.

"You need a pair of Spectrespecs. You're seeing things."

He raised his head. "Are you calling me a liar?"

"Simply a man who sees what he wants to see rather than what's really there." Then, she arched her back, encouraging him to return his attention to her breasts, and he lost himself in the challenge of teasing and suckling on each of them in turn.

Her nails raked down his back. Her legs wrapped around him, drew him in. Each stroke of his cock against the rough blonde curls sent a jolt through him. Her hips flexed, and the head of his cock was against her clit. Faster and faster she moved, rubbing herself against him. Her head fell back, her legs widened, her heels dug into his arse. She panted, babbled.

Balancing his weight on one arm, he reached down with his right hand, skimming his thumb roughly over her clit, guiding his cock into her as she climaxed.

Hot. Wet. His. He thrust, hard and deep. She drew him down, encouraged him to rest his weight on her. She kissed him, raising her hips and meeting him stroke for stroke. Her muscles rippled around him, pulling him in deeper, holding him, and he rocked against her, twisting his hips, grinding against her clitoris.

He wanted, needed, hung on the edge. Then she slipped a hand between them, pinched and rolled his nipple, and he fell. His cock pulsed. He growled his release even as she gasped her own into his mouth.

Afterwards, they lay curled around each other. Her head on his shoulder, his hand tangled into her hair, they slept.

~*~

On the other side of the house in Luna's workroom, paint bloomed in the empty space at the centre of her friends-and-family tree.

~fin~


End file.
